


Body Heat

by briankinney (lestvt)



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: (just like a pinch of it lol), AU, Alpha!Brian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWVLP (porn with very little plot), Spanking, omega!Justin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestvt/pseuds/briankinney
Summary: Justin’s grip tightened on the neck of the beer he was nursing. It was cold, so he took another sip. A wave of adrenaline rushed through him as he swallowed.Brian was whispering to the trick he was dancing with, nodding in the direction of the back room, and for a moment Justin felt sick. Then came the anger, completely unjustifiable. [...]'Brian's not your fucking mate,' he had to remind himself. [...] But why then did he feel like he wanted to cry?





	Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT (5/5/2019): In case anyone was wondering, I am still planning on writing a sequel or even just a different version of this AU sometime in the near future, hopefully in the summer... 
> 
> I've just been really busy with college lately and had to prioritize my VC fics over all the QAF ideas I have tucked away in my files, since the VC fandom has been my main squeeze for the last two-ish years now, and I feel a sort of commitment to the poor, deprived goths in it who covet my dumb vampire smut. 
> 
> QAF has been my number two since my latest rewatch a few months back though, so I do have every intention of writing more under this pseud, I swear!!! But until then I figured I might as well read through this story a few more times and edit any pacing issues or weird grammar or what have you that I find. Because, yes, I am a perfectionist, and, yes, I enjoy torturing myself. 
> 
> Later.

 

Justin was hot. Way too hot. He had to peel his shirt off his chest to try and cool down.

It felt sticky in the club tonight, and thick, like he was slowly suffocating on the sex-laden smell. And he knew it wasn’t the alcohol doing it to him, though it burned as it slid down his throat. It wasn’t the crowd either; Babylon was currently packed to its usual capacity, and anyway he was used to the gyrating bodies that decorated it floor to ceiling, and how it made the air inside musty with everyone’s scents. That wasn’t enough to affect him anymore. And it probably wasn’t the poppers coursing through his system, because there were none. He’d rejected all the offers he’d gotten.

No way. It was definitely Brian, grinding tantalizingly against some beta trick in the middle of the dance floor. Looking sexy, and God-like, and completely oblivious to the fact that Justin was there, at the bar, watching him.  

Justin’s grip tightened on the neck of the beer he was nursing. It was cold, so he took another sip. A wave of adrenaline rushed through him as he swallowed.

Brian was whispering to the trick, nodding in the direction of the back room, and for a moment Justin felt sick. Then came the anger, completely unjustifiable. Brian had never promised him anything. They didn’t need to tie themselves together with labels.

‘Brian’s not your fucking mate,’ he had to remind himself, because it seemed he was starting to forget.

But Justin knew all along that he had no claim to him, so he knew he had no reason to be hurt.

He was used to it, he thought. He was fine with it.

He was fine.  

But why then did he feel like he wanted to cry? He hadn’t even come here looking for Brian, just for a good time with a willing guy’s dick. So, why did the sight of Brian touching on some nameless trick tug at his heart more than it ever had before? And why, knowing full well how pissed it would make Brian, did he stomp a path across the dance floor, practically growling, and shove the guy away?

Justin didn’t know. He only knew that he’d done it, and now Brian was frowning down at him, radiating the scent of angry alpha.

And he was just so goddamn hot!   

“Justin, shit!” Brian snapped, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him roughly back. “What’s your fucking damage?”

The trick was looking between them, clearly annoyed. He made a move for Justin, but he must’ve recognized him as “the kid Kinney fucks more than once” or whatever, because he stopped with a regretful expression on his face and promptly fucked off when Brian shot him one of his patented killer glares. Once he had disappeared into the thrall of horny dancers, Justin pulled his arm out of Brian’s grasp and took a step away.

It felt strange just standing there, still amongst the mass of moving bodies. Many of which were looking right at them, probably wondering how Brian would deal with the situation.

Justin said nothing, because he could think of nothing to say. He didn’t know what his damage was. He just knew it was there. And he suddenly felt ashamed. Which, in turn, only ended up making him more upset.

Brian’s mouth formed a thin line as he watched Justin closely, assessing his demeanor, the anxiety underlying his scent. Then his nostrils flared; he looked to his left where a different trick was now dancing shirtless; another omega, wafting the stench of his arousal over and obviously trying to get Brian’s attention.

Livid, Justin watched him lick his lips at the man’s suggestive wink. His temperature spiked again.

“What the fuck, Brian! Is it fun to taunt me? Are you having a good fucking time?” he shouted over the music, punching him square in the chest.

The words had fallen from Justin’s mouth of their own accord, but once they’d been said, that was that. And something about giving his feelings voice seemed to spur them on. 

Brian looked mildly horrified for a moment, then he was back to being pissed.

“Christ, Justin, calm the fuck down! Stop!” He caught Justin’s hand before it could make impact yet again. His grip was firm. His fingers kept flexing around his wrist, as though debating how hard to squeeze it.  

Justin ripped out of his hold. He tried to strike Brian again, but he was quickly recaptured, his arms now pinned to his sides by a pair much stronger than his own. Then Brian growled, and the next thing Justin knew he was being ushered through the crowd, towards the entrance.

“Let go!” he barked, trying to turn out of his grip; Brian’s fingers were so deep in his flesh that it hurt. “I said fucking let go of me, asshole!”   

“Yeah, right.” Brian was undeterred. “You need to cool the hell off,” he spat through clenched teeth.

Then, coatless, they broke through the door and out into the crisp December air. The moment the wind met his skin, Justin gasped and wrapped his arms around himself. He instantly felt light-headed, but he was still so hot. And his skin itched incessantly all of the sudden – he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Right when he was about to start struggling again, Brian let him go. Justin jumped back and shivered to shake off the feeling of his hands. He looked down at his feet, blinked a few times, refocusing his eyes.  

“So, are you going to tell me what your fucking problem is, or are you just going to stand there pouting all night like a twat?” Brian demanded, his voice deep with stress.

Another wave of pheromones rolled off him just then. It made Justin dizzy. He shook his head, trying, and failing, to clear his mind, but all he could hear was that little voice in the back, reserved just for Brian, begging, _“Mark me! Love me! Please!”_

“Forget it, it’s nothing,” he muttered, turning to head back inside.

Brian grabbed him. “Oh, no you don’t – you’re not escaping that easily,” he hissed. “You’re going to pay for losing me that trick somehow. The way I see it, you have two options here; you can either act like a big boy and tell me what your deal is _right now_. Or you can continue being a brat until I take you home and spank it out of you. Your choice.”

Justin huffed petulantly and tried again to push him away. “Fuck off, Brian!” he shouted. “You don’t get to give me ultimatums! You’re not my dad, and like you love to remind me, you’re not my fucking mate either! So, why don’t you just leave me the hell alone?”   

Brian laughed, unamused and utterly incredulous. “Fine.” His voice was oddly calm as he dragged Justin towards the jeep. “Have it your way, Sunshine.”   

 

[…]

 

The blue light above Brian’s alter of a bed was the only thing on when they entered the loft. It must’ve been intentional; Justin’s eyes were, as always, immediately drawn to it. And the feeling of Brian’s arm around him, keeping him from running away, suddenly burned through his clothes. It was in great contrast to the coolness of the room.  

Brian manhandled him to the coach without a word. There he sat, forcing Justin to lie face down on his lap. No hesitation or preface, he slid his jeans and underwear over his ass, leaving them tangled around his knees and keeping his movement restricted. He placed his hand on Justin's tailbone in forewarning.  

Justin squirmed, trying to push off him, but the grip Brian had keeping his arms in place did the same for the rest of him. And his scent wasn’t helping either, heady with alpha influence, whispering, _“you’ll submit to me if you know what’s good for you.”_ It made Justin’s body feel heavy, like lead. He could hardly lift his neck enough to catch a look at Brian’s face.

He shook, suddenly overcome with raw emotion and a deep-seeded need to be owned by this man, a sensation so strong that it made his eyes sting. He wanted desperately to look at Brian, to take comfort in the self-control he always seemed to exude. But he couldn’t fucking move! Brian wouldn’t let him!    

Then the hand on his ass went away.

“Wait,” Justin whined, sparks of fear making his breath hitch. “Please don’t!”

Brian’s voice was low. “Are you ready to fess up?”

Justin swallowed around the childish complaints bubbling in his throat. They were persistent though, and some made it to the surface, sitting on the tip of his tongue, now so close to their escape. But he didn’t want to fuck this up – didn’t want Brain to think he was a clingy, useless twink who couldn’t handle a meaningless fuck with a stranger. He didn’t want to be kicked out. So, he bit his lip.

The anticipation, the dread was always the worst part.

Then it happened. Brian’s hand came down, and Justin’s whole body jerked when it struck him.

He couldn’t stop from crying out. “Ah, fuck!”  

“Stay still,” Brian grunted.

God, he sounded so mad. Even as the second hit landed, it made Justin feel stupid, and ridiculous, and petty. He did his best not to move, to be good for his alpha. And he wished he could take back his stubborn jealousy, so that maybe he could be here now, basking in a different kind of touch. But it was too late for that.

The blows kept coming, again and again and again. Justin started off shouting, gasping, and grunting at every hit, but as they continued he’d grown quieter. Not because it didn’t hurt – it stung like a bitch, and worse than the pain was the tension he felt building in his stomach. And the heat. But he’d fallen into a head-space, caught some place between torturous bliss and blissful torture, and fuck, it hurt so good!

Staying still became impossible; Justin kept alternating between chasing the pain and fleeing from it so violently that Brian had to struggle to keep his arms pinned behind his back.

Then something in him broke. Justin’s sense of touch heightened to a new level. He was intensely aware of every feeling now: the roughness of Brian’s jeans rubbing his stomach and cock, his own cold wetness left there by the tip, Brian’s erection jabbing him in the hip, and the weight of his solid hand on his back. The chilled air as it brushed against his reddened ass after every harrowing slap.

Justin was so hard he wanted to scream, but he’d lost his voice. Every sound he made was caught between a choke and sob. And Brian wouldn’t let up; he kept spanking him silently with no apparent remorse, no clue offered as to when it would end. And when the sensitivity became too much to bear – so much that it almost turned to numbness - Justin just felt high.

Then so low and pathetic that he started to cry.

He trembled and ducked his head, rubbing his tears into the expensive cushion. “Oh, fuck! Sorry… I’m sorry! Please stop, Brain! Stop?!”

Apparently, he’d uttered the magic words. With one final blow, Brian ended his assault.

Still crying, Justin allowed himself to be hauled up, then placed back down on the couch. His skin was aflame, burning wildly. When he saw Brian begin to walk away, he quickly reached out for his hand.

“Don’t go!”

Brain paused and sucked his lips into his mouth. He looked at Justin for a long moment, his brow furrowed. He took a deep breath and blinked once before brushing him off. Something was obviously making him think, but Justin didn’t know what. Brian just seemed… unsure. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, because the smell he started emitting was strong... too strong. It was slowing down all the thoughts in Justin's head.

“Look, it’s fine, okay?” Brian said, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he was gone.    

Justin cried harder when he was out of sight. He wanted to get up and follow him, but he couldn’t move. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton, and his head was whirling. He could barely even see straight, so he closed his eyes. And he just laid there, practicing patience by fighting back his inner omega, who was calling out for Brian, going, _“Please don’t abandon me, Alpha! Please love me!”_

“Relax, Sunshine.”

Justin opened his eyes.

Brain was there, standing by the couch again. He was holding something white and cylindrical in one hand, and in the other was what Justin assumed, through the haze, was a bottle of water. He reached for him, but Brian expertly avoided his grasp and placed both objects on the table as he sat on the edge of the couch. Finally, he helped Justin up to drink the water, and when he’d chugged at least half, Brian made him go prone again and stripped him down to nothing. There came the pop of a cap being opened, and finally he began rubbing Justin’s back and ass with warm, slippery hands.

Justin moaned, grateful for the attention. Basking in the aftercare. Brian was radiating that calming alpha influence now, the kind he so rarely gave off around anyone else. And though Justin still felt hot and achy inside, it eased him, reminding him that, no matter what he said... or _didn’t_ say, Brian Kinney gave a shit. Brian cared about Justin. No one else received this version of his “treatment.”

By the time he was done, Justin was limp like a wet noodle everywhere except for his dick. Brian had to carry him to bed.

Justin immediately rolled onto his stomach when he hit the mattress, presenting his slick-covered ass. Eyes closed and thoroughly blissed out, he rubbed his cheek against the soft, high-thread count sheets, permeated by Brian’s familiar smell, and savored the fact that here, in his bed, it seemed to surround him. 

“Hurry up,” he demanded. “Fuck me.”   

Brian swore. “Bossy bottom,” he muttered. Then the bed dipped as he positioned himself over Justin’s back. “All you had to do was ask.”  

Brian turned Justin’s head and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. Once he was satisfied, he pulled back and lowered both his hands to his sore cheeks, spreading them apart and exposing his hole to the loft’s cool air. When Justin groaned and reached for something to hold onto, Brian put a pillow in his hand.

“Ever hear the term, ‘pillow biter?’” he teased, already pushing two fingers deep into Justin’s ass.  

Justin dragged it to his head and did exactly that. All he could think was, _Holy shit,_ and, _I love Brian’s hands_ , as he was worked steadily open. Not that he needed to be; Justin could feel how ready he was, twitching and messy with slick all the way down to his inner thighs. But Brian never did half-ass anything when it came to sex. Not even when Justin wanted him to. At least not that he’d been around to see.   

“Wow, Sunshine,” Brian sighed against his shoulder. “You must have liked that more than you let on, because you’re really. Fucking. Wet.” He punctuated his words in time with the thrust of his fingers.

Justin sobbed into the space between the pillow and his arm.

“Did you like it?”

Justin nodded.

Brian sat back and added a third finger to the mix. Justin mourned the loss of his weight, but only for so long, because then he was spanked again. Just once, but it brought back the headiness long enough to make him gush.  

“Tell me,” Brian insisted darkly.   

“God, yes!” Justin wailed, arching into his touch as Brian fingered both his ass and the fresh mark of his hand. “I fucking loved it!”

Brian laughed. Then his fingers disappeared, and the bed shifted again.

 _Finally_ , Justin thought when he heard the sound foil being ripped. He made a happy noise in the back of his throat and wiggled his ass in a way he hoped could be called “inviting.” And it wasn’t long before he was getting what he wanted: the thick press of Brian’s dick inside of him, so gratifying and full, the feeling of his lips tickling his shoulders and neck. He let out a wrecked moan and reached back to encourage Brian deeper by gripping his thigh.  

“Tell me what you want, Sunshine,” Brian rasped, already working him up with shallow, staggered thrusts. “Fast and hard?” He snapped his hips forward.

“Uh!” Justin’s jaw dropped then clamped shut as Brian eased slowly back.  

“Or soft and… _drawn out?_ ”  

“Don’t care,” he gasped, vigorously shaking his head. “Just hurry up and fuck me already!”

Brian licked his lips. “So, fast and hard then?”

Justin whined. _“Now,_  asshole!”

“Just checking.” He laughed again.

Then he got to it. His arm came around Justin’s chest for leverage, and Justin held onto it for dear life as Brian pounded mercifully into him. He tilted back his head, searching for Brian’s mouth, but the angle was off, so all he got was the wet brush of lips on his ear, then down his jaw. Justin let go of Brian’s thigh and instead ran his fingers through his hair, arching his neck in offering.

Brian growled and bit him right above the shoulder. Fire exploded in Justin’s lower stomach. He chewed his lip to keep from screaming, but he was far from silent. A rush of endorphins accompanied the primal reaction the bite ignited in him, practically draining him of all control. So good that it pushed him right to the edge. Then just lingered there.

Not enough though. He needed something more.          

“Touch me,” Justin pleaded.

Brian’s arm slid down his torso, and a cool hand enclosed his dick, not yet stroking him, but giving the relief of some friction. Justin’s head bowed as he panted and thrust into the grip, then back against the cock still pounding away at his ass. He felt surrounded on all sides by pleasure – by Brian – he never wanted to leave.

Suddenly, Brian pulled out. But before Justin had the chance to complain, he was flipped onto his back, and then he was being fucked again. Only now Brian was kissing him too.

Justin wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, moaning happily into his mouth. He was vaguely aware of a dull throbbing in his shoulder and the fact that his dick was now pressed between their bodies. But the most important thing was that Brian was hovering on his elbows above him, and he felt perfect bracketed between his arms. He felt safe. And that was the trigger.  

“Bri… 'm so close.” 

Brian made a low noise of acknowledgement in his throat. But he didn't relent. He just kept on fucking him at the same pace he had been. And it made the buildup drag out, so that Justin’s orgasm crept up on him slowly. Then suddenly hit, crashing down all at once.

“Brian!” he gasped, feeling his semen shoot between their stomachs. “Oh…”

As Justin’s orgasm cut through him, Brian kissed the side of his face. He gave a few more forceful thrusts, then stilled, a barely-there sound vibrating from his chest. And, finally, he collapsed on top of Justin, spent.   

 

[…]

 

It wasn’t until Justin was beneath the covers, already cleaned up and verging on sleep with Brian spooned around him, that Brain suddenly decided he wanted to talk. In the proper Kinney fashion, he started by diving in headfirst. No regrets.    

“You’re in preheat.”

Justin opened his eyes. “Huh?”

A hand petted down his side. He shivered and leaned into it.

“Pretty sure that’s why you queen’d out on that trick at Babylon like that. You’re really starting to wreak of it.” 

Justin sniffed himself and immediately recoiled at the strength. “Oh…” He scrunched up his nose. “That explains a lot.”

Brian scoffed. “Yeah, no shit.” But his voice softened. “I should’ve noticed sooner... but you pissed me the fuck off.”

Justin choked down the lump in his throat and told himself not to cry. _Stupid omega hormones_. At least now he knew he wasn’t going crazy.

“Sorry.”

Brain’s chest expanded against his back; he felt his breath cooling off the nape of his sweaty neck. “Sorry’s bullshit,” he reminded. “But you should probably call off work this week.” 

Justin inhaled Brian’s essence, closing his eyes again. He thought about saying no, he wanted to work and it would suck to have to make up his classes. Plus, if he really didn’t want to miss out he could just take a suppressant and hope for the best, since it might be a little too late to stop his heat entirely. But it was hard to argue when Brian smelled so goddamn good – so comforting and sexy and alpha.

He knew he was doing it on purpose too, the asshole, sedating him so he couldn’t talk back. And of course, it fucking worked.

“Okay,” Justin mumbled, because why not?

And, warm in Brian’s arms, he let himself be lulled to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I’ve got a spanking kink and I like A/B/O AU’s. What fucking of it?
> 
> Anyway, I can’t believe I watched QAF for the first time when I was 16. Actually, wait… yes I can. This show is so extra, of course teenage me was into it. It was basically just soap opera plot devices used as an excuse to air softcore gay porn on television. And I fucking love it.
> 
> Seriously, Justin is a precious gift to humanity, and everything Brian says/does is relatable af.
> 
> i.e., “Who gives a flying fuck what straight people think?” 
> 
> I mean, really. Fucking iconic.  
> Goddamn legendary.
> 
>  
> 
> (god, i cant believe i just posted this........ do i have no shame? guess not, nope
> 
> buuuuuuuuuuuut............ if im feeling "inspired" later i might write a sequel about justin's heat... *cough*)


End file.
